


with your heart in handfuls

by notoneoftheangels



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Pining, Unrequited Love, You Decide, korvira, kuvira is a lesbian, or maybe it's, or maybe just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneoftheangels/pseuds/notoneoftheangels
Summary: Korra gives Kuvira a gift, and Kuvira is hopelessly in love with her.
Relationships: Korra/Kuvira (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	with your heart in handfuls

**Author's Note:**

> title from Home Again by Beach House, and the stanza from which it's taken it's taken goes:
> 
> _heaven, baby, is in an hour  
>  with your heart in handfuls, forbidden flowers.  
> bread and bonnets along the way  
> better take your chances while there's still a ray_

The notebook is handbound, and tiny slivers of gold leaf are overlaid on the seal-skin cover in swirling patterns. Though there are slight signs of wear, it looks exquisite.

Kuvira thinks about what this means, whilst tracing the gold with her fingertips. Her heart feels lighter than it's ever been; Korra knows there’s metal on the book and still trusts her enough to give it to her. She flicks to the first page and sees a drawing of a girl sledding on an otter penguin. It’s crude, a child’s drawing, but from the bright blue eyes and brown hair she can tell it’s supposed to be Korra. Kuvria smiles, flicking ahead, but all the other pages are blank.

“My mother gave it to me when I was little,” explains Korra, “but I’m not much of a writer. I don’t think and reflect as much as I should—” Kuvira protests, and Korra shushes her “—not like you do, anyway. I thought you could find a use for it. It’s been sitting in my room for too long.” 

Kuvira hugs the notebook to her chest. “Korra,” she starts, and can’t seem to find the right words. She tries again, “This is—” But her throat closes up and she can’t get anything else out. 

No one’s ever given her a gift like this before. Yes, Baatar had given her flowers, and Kuvira had appreciated them, admired their beauty, but nothing ever made her feel like this. Perhaps it wasn’t the fault of the flowers; she knew they were expensive. (“The very best for you,” Baatar would always say with a smile, making her feel awkward and uneasy. She used to think she was uncomfortable at the thought of him spending so much money on her, but now she knows it was because she didn't want to be reminded of his affections.) She wonders now if she might have felt differently if Korra had been the one to give her flowers. A few weeks ago she would have considered it a dangerous train of thought, but now she’s too tired to fight anymore. She allows herself this small indulgence; it’s not like anything could ever happen between them, anyway.

And so she imagines how differently her life would have turned out, if she had met Korra when she was younger and lonely, but not alone, surrounded by Suyin’s large family and even larger personality, but so desperate for warmth and friendship—if, instead of the Avatar, Korra was just a normal girl, and Kuvira was not Once-Adored-Leader-Now-Hated-Tyrant but just another girl.

They would have been the best of friends, practically inseparable.

She wonders if she would still have fallen in love with her. 

(She thinks of Korra’s ocean blue eyes, and how easy it is to lose oneself and drown in them, eyes that are kind, but ruthless as they strip down your defences and pierce you right down to your soul, and how they shine when she smiles, and crease when she laughs. She thinks of how the instant she heard Korra’s honeyed laughter, it replaced the clang of metal as her favourite sound. Both leave echoes, the metal outside and the laughter inside her mind.)

She thinks she would have. 

She would tell Korra this, sitting in a field of yellow and purple flowers, rambling about how Korra was much too good for her and she couldn't help but love her (perhaps there would be tears involved), and Korra—sweet, good, brave Korra— who was weaving violets into her braid, would set it down gently, wipe away her tears and kiss her to shut her up.

“Kuvira?” Korra’s voice interrupts her thoughts and the flowers and fantasy fade, into the dull grey wall of the room in which she is stuck for the foreseeable future, into a world in which Korra does not love her. 

She’s crying again. She seems to do a lot of it around Korra, recently. Korra notices and moves closer to hold her.

“Hey,” whispers Korra, cradling her head gently, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Kuvira closes her eyes as Korra's fingers run through her hair, and sees visions of violets.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to who commented or left kudos or just anyone who happened to read my last work! you've made me so so happy and inspired me to write a bit more :))
> 
> the flowers just started off as a tiny detail, but then, like the classics nerd i am, i remembered violets and sappho and i just HAD to include it for the ~subtext~, and then it ended with flowers and the TITLE ended up being related to flowers too .... sorrynotsorry
> 
> (did they have sappho in the avatarverse?? i would like to think they do, haha)
> 
> i could probably write an essay on the sapphic subtext of the song the title's from (Home Again by Beach House, in case you don't want to scroll to the top) but i won't, but do give it a listen, if you want.
> 
> if you've read till here then all there's left to say is that i want u to know you're a very special human bean and i hope you have a great day <3


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